a truth universally acknowleged
by thefrostedrose
Summary: AU: After Mr. Darcy's disastrous proposal at Rosings Park, Elizabeth Bennet marries his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. In distress, Mr. Darcy proposes to Caroline Bingley; but perhaps their relationship will not be as frustrating as it may seem...
1. prologue

"A Mr. Darcy is here for you, Miss."

Now, on any other day, the news of a visit from Fitzwilliam Darcy would send her into near panic - scrambling to check her hair, arranging her dress in just the right way, searching for the perfect book to casually read - but today, she finds that she could not be bothered with such necessities.

The summer had seemed to add a great weight to Miss Bingley's shoulders. London was humid; damp and stifling. Her brother and sister-in-law had retreated to the countryside, and Mrs. Hurst and her husband were vacationing in Bath. All other peers of notable social rank, anyone she had ever called a 'friend', was either at the ocean for the summer or, at this point, married.

Even a visit from her beloved Mr. Darcy could not remedy her mood.

"Miss Bingley." He greets her formally, as is his nature.

"A pleasure as always, Mr. Darcy." She rises to her feet, letting a polite smile grace her lips. "By all means, sit. Please." She gestures towards the seat next to her, which he takes with a silent nod.

The silence is perhaps more suffocating than the London air. She keeps her gaze on her neatly folded hands in her lap, but out of the corner of her eye she can see his tense shoulders, the storm brewing in his eyes.

"I thought perhaps you would be in Derbyshire for the season." She asks, because any conversation is better than this awful silence. "Pemberley is lovely this time of year."

"I hope to return there shortly." He replies tersely, enough for her to blink at the curtness of his response.

"Charles is in Hertfordshire for the summer, if you were searching for him." She clarifies. Though she has been in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy for years, rarely ever was she left with him in such an intimate setting.

"I am aware of your brother's whereabouts, Miss Bingley." Darcy responds, and she knits her eyebrows gracefully in confusion.

"Though it is always a joy to have you here, Mr. Darcy, I am a tad perplexed at the purpose of your visit." She inquires; after all, Mr. Darcy has never visited her privately before.

"I have just returned from Kent." He tells her slowly.

"And how is your aunt, Lady Catherine?"

"Quite well, thank you." He clears his throat awkwardly, looking everywhere in the room except for her. "Have you heard of my cousin's marriage?"

"Yes. He and Miss Elizabeth have moved to the North, have they not?" She wonders gently.

"To Newcastle." She has to lean closer to hear him.

"Ah."

"Miss Bingley," He begins anew. "I have been relatively open with you about my...sentiments toward Miss Elizabeth."

"Indeed you have." She says it perhaps more harshly than she means, punctuating the end with a humorless grin. _It has been your constant occupation these last few months. _

"And as you have heard, she is otherwise _engaged_, " He continues with conviction. "Perhaps other arrangements can be made."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy?"

"Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

And again, on any other day she would rejoice at this news - she would be weeping with joy. She has been pining after her for _years_ but now she just feels vastly shocked.

"Mr. Darcy!" She jumps to her feet in alarm.

"Miss Bingley," He sinks on to one knee in front of her.

"Sir, you can not be serious in your proposal." She shakes her head, wringing her hands nervously.

"I would not be here if I wasn't. And I know of your own feelings towards me." She feels the blush crawl up her cheeks in embarrassment.

"You have not loved me a day in your life." She whispers, though it pains her to admit it.

"I have never _disliked _you." He argues. "I must admit, I thought you would be more...joyous at this proposal."

"Who would ever want to marry someone who is so clearly in love with someone else?" She laughs slightly in exasperation.

"But Elizabeth _denied _me, and made her feelings extremely clear."

"And so I am second to her even now." She sighs, finally meeting his determined, yet pleading eyes.

"Caroline, please." It is the first time she's ever heard him use her Christian name, and she hates the twisting she feels in her chest.

"I must be a fool to be even considering this proposal of yours." She chuckles sharply, and she can see the flash of pain in his eyes and her laughter dies.

"Is this what you want, Mr. Darcy?" She lowers her voice, stepping closer to him. "For I do not think I could be in a marriage with a miserable man pining after someone else."

"I most dearly hope you can help alleviate my pain, Miss Bingley." It doesn't sound sincere in the slightest; much more like a schoolboy reciting his lessons.

"Then yes." She shrugs simply. She wishes she has the strength to deny him, just to spite him, but admittedly she is too in love with him for even that.

He blinks in surprise before rising to feet, reaching into his pocket, and slipping the ring on her finger. His hand lingers on hers, seemingly undecided on whether to embrace her, or kiss her.

"You will have to write my brother." She makes his decision for him.

"Of course. I will notify him at once." He agrees, and she nods slightly. "I will call again shortly." He looks down at their joined hands, forgotten until that moment, before pressing a kiss to her hand in formality.

"Until then, Mr. Darcy." She responds, feeling like this is some incredibly complex dream that she will soon wake up from.

"Miss Bingley," He bids her farewell stiffly, as if they were still acquaintances and not recently engaged.

When he exits, she exhales readily, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

Oddly, she doesn't even have the strength to write Louisa.


	2. chapter one

**NOTES: Clearing up some questions and responding to some comments made in the reviews - Caroline is not going to change into this perfect wife for Mr. Darcy. Caroline naturally has quite the troublesome personality, but you know, she's actually not that bad in the book. Even I'm not certain if Darcy/Caroline will end up being romantic in this fic - Mr. Darcy is clearly in love with Elizabeth, and I'm not quite certain that Caroline actually loves Darcy; she's spent so much time pining after him that I feel like she **_**thinks**_ **what she feels is love. Who knows if it's true or not, haha. **

* * *

"Would you rather honeymoon in the North or at the sea?"

"Oh." Caroline blinks, drawing her attention back to the situation and Darcy's grave gaze. "The sea, I suppose."

"Weymouth or Margate?"

"Margate. Weymouth is far too busy this time of year." She wrinkles her nose slightly in distaste at the thought, adjusting herself in her seat with agitation.

"Good, considering that my aunt has demanded we marry in Kent."

"So she's acquiesced to the match?" Her eyebrows raise in languid surprise; the last she had heard, Lady Catherine had harshly objected to the daughter of a tradesmen.

"Eventually." Mr. Darcy says through his teeth, sharply ending the conversation. With a well-rehearsed sigh and a slight eyeroll, Caroline reclines farther into the carriage and idly views the lush green fields of Hyde Park rolling by.

_Perhaps he'll become a better conversationalist once we're married. _

All talk between them, it seemed, had been on the topic of their impending nuptials. Mr. Darcy had planned the wedding with more alacrity and efficiency than she could expect from any man. _He is desperate to remove to pain Ms. Bennet's caused him_.

He had written to her brother right after his proposal, as swiftly as he had assured her. Charles, naturally, had readily accepted the match - he and Jane later wrote her the most cheerful, nauseating letter she had ever the misfortune to receive. It stated how 'surprised, yet overjoyed' they were to hear of the engagement.

The few she considered close acquaintances were excited to hear the news, but the rest of society was rife with unrest, hissing foul rumors behind their backs.

"Is Georgiana coming down for the wedding?" She inquires, fingers playing with the fabric of the carriage seat.

"She cannot be removed that long from her studies." He responds, and she lets out a small huff. At least in Derbyshire she'll have Georgiana's company - she has no idea how long she could be around a moping Fitzwilliam Darcy, in the middle of the empty countryside. "Have you picked out a dress?"

"Yes." She's frankly surprised by the question. She has always been keeping an eye on the wedding dress fashions, knowing her time would come soon. She has been in love with one dress since she was eighteen; gorgeous white chiffon, carefully embroidered, delicate white less. Oddly, purchasing the gown was less exciting than she thought. The wedding of her dreams is certainly not the one she will have with Mr. Darcy.

"After our stay in Margate, we will dispatch for Derbyshire at once." He informs her, and

she winces a tad at the formality of the statement; even in private conversations he always

spoke to her as if she were a stranger.

"It will be lovely to return to Pemberley again." She replies, and the awkwardness of this conversation makes her want to vomit. She lowers her voice to a whisper. "_Are you sure you want to go through this?"_

"I assure you, Miss Bingley." He says dryly. "I would never have proposed if I was not planning on going through with it."

* * *

"Are you nervous?"

"No, I'm just pacing for absolutely no reason." She shoots her brother an angry look, and he chuckles slightly before sneaking a peek into the crowded church.

"Looks like they're about to start." He informs her, and her stomach flips.

"How do I look?" She stops pacing and turns to face him, crossing her arms anxiously.

"_Beautiful_, Caro." Charles grins brightly, and his enthusiastic smile is enough for her to feel happy just for a split moment. "Can you promise me something?"

"No, I will not come spend the rest of the year with you and the Bennet family in Hertfordshire."

"Just please make him happy, okay?" He steps closer to her, smile falling off of his face. "He's my best friend, and -"

"I'll do my best, Charles." She says more to herself, really, than her brother.

And when she walks into the church, she feels more uncomfortable than anything. Of course, the music is exactly to her liking, as is the flowers and the dress - but everyone is staring at her and none of them look particularly happy on her behalf.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh looks like she would rather be dying of consumption than at the wedding (and Caroline can almost sympathize), Louisa looks nonplussed and she can tell Mr. Hurst is already too deep in liquor to know what's actually happening.

There was no way to avoid inviting Darcy's cousin, but Colonel Fitzwilliam looks peacefully content. And Miss Elizabeth - _Mrs. Fitzwilliam _- well, there's a look drawn across her features that Caroline can't quite place.

Fitzwilliam Darcy himself looks heartbroken - more stiff and wooden than ever before, and she angrily fights back the tears pricking in her eyes. Now, it seems everyone is looking at her in the deepest sympathy. _Oh, poor Caroline - how could anyone marry someone so clearly in love with another?_

No, this is not what she wants.

She takes her place by Mr. Darcy on the altar anyway.

She barely pays attention to a word the vicar is saying, her gaze focused firmly on his chest because she cannot bare to see the pain in his eyes. She only is aware that the ceremony is over when his lips brush briefly over hers. Her chest feels like it's collapsing in on itself, her eyes flicker close at the _slightest_ touch of his mouth on hers.

And then there's clapping and cheering, and he steps away from her and she's drawn out of the moment.

Well, thank god one of them was paying attention to the actually wedding service (though Caroline suspects Darcy was so attentive because he was so anxious to get it over with).

* * *

The whole idea of the wedding night does not, in itself, make her uncomfortable.

Caroline is no shrinking violet; she has been informed of her wifely duties by her older sister and now married friends (though the term 'duties' does make her wrinkle her nose a bit). Consummation did not frighten her.

But consummation with _Fitzwilliam Darcy_ -

_That _makes her nervous.

Darcy did not seem to be...a sexual being, really, and she has no doubt that he isn't attracted to her in that sort of way. The whole prospect seems like it will end in complete disaster.

_Maybe he will simply think of Elizabeth Bennet_.

She lets out of little noise of humiliation at the thought.

"Mrs. Darcy," She nearly jumps before turning around in her vanity chair to face Mr. Darcy, who looks like he would rather be anywhere than his wife's marriage bed. She can sense how hard it is for him to call her _Mrs. Darcy_, and her hand tightens in pain against the mahogany dressing table.

"'Caroline', please." She amends quietly, standing. "We are married, after all."

"Caroline," He corrects, taking an agitated step towards her. "You look _beautiful_."

She feels the flush creeping up her face, and she touches her long hair, now waving past her shoulders, in apprehension. He slowly removes his jacket to put on the chair in the corner, and she instinctively backs up quickly until her knees hit the edge of the bed.

The moment his hand cups the side of her face, she freezes. She loses all ability to breathe when his forehead rests against hers. When his other hand runs briefly through her hair and then down her back, she begins to tremble.

His eyes analyze her carefully, and after a long moment, he steps slightly away from her, now realizing that under a steely exterior Caroline is indeed just a nervous, shy, _girl_.

"We don'thave to do this now." He whispers, looking away from her. "This ordeal has been no doubt taxing for the both of us. Perhaps we should take one step at a time."

"Indeed." She exhales, feeling both embarrassed and relieved. "I would rather not consummate our marriage in your aunt's home." She gestures at the ceiling. "The cherubs are oddly off-putting."

At that, he cracks a sharp laugh, and she blinks in shock. _A small victory_.

And though being in bed with Fitzwilliam Darcy is certainly _awkward_, there is something nice about not being quite so alone anymore, that she can turn over and there is someone else there, a warm presence she can't quite put her finger on.

They fall asleep two feet apart, facing away from each other.


	3. chapter two

**I hate doing these things at the beginning - but I like to answer questions and clarify things but a lot of you are on 'guest' so I can't message you directly. A) I have no plans on killing anyone off, especially Colonel Fitzwilliam - I feel like that would be an easy way to put Darcy/Elizabeth together, and who ever said they were end-game to begin with? B) Elizabeth and the Colonel I mentioned are living in Newcastle; He's still in the army, I'd wager. I've never really thought about it. C) Elizabeth got the letter explaining everything from Darcy. She knows about the whole Jane/Bingley things, knows about Wickham - she married the Colonel anyway. D) Well, Caroline is not as outrageous in this but I think that's more because of the situation. She ended up getting what she wanted, but in quite an unexpected and sort of humiliating way, which upsets her. E) Darcy marries Caroline simply because she's **_**there**_**. She has a large dowry, does decent enough in social situations, and they've known each other for awhile. Darcy is not socially inclined, so marrying someone he already has an acquaintanceship with and knows will say yes is ideal. **

* * *

_She's really not that bad when she's asleep. _

Fitzwilliam Darcy buttons his jacket while watching his sleeping wife out of the corner of her eye. Caroline normally had a permanent scowl or smirk on her face during waking hours, but all of her features sort of smooth out when she's asleep. Her long red hair, which is usually twisted on top of her head, flows around her head and over her pillow. He can see the gentle curves of her form through the sheets.

Yes, Caroline is indeed beautiful, and he knows rationally that any man would be fortunate to have her as a wife.

And yet -

They had been in Margate for two weeks and no progress had been made in the carnal arena. Although Caroline is attractive, he admires her beauty in a more detached, objective way, like a man appreciates a beautiful painting - vaguely untouchable, like she is not _his_, though they are married.

There is some lingering attraction for her in that sort of way; perhaps if they had married a year ago, this all would have worked out more smoothly. But Caroline's hair is too light, her eyes not dark enough.

The thought sends a shot of pain through his veins, and he winces, turning away from her. He should feel happy for himself - he was out of reach of Elizabeth Bennet's influence, far enough away that he would never let him affect him again. However, this panging loneliness seems to follow him, this overwhelming guilt. Despite Caroline's pernicious nature, she does not necessarily deserve such a fate.

_Maybe they should not have married after all._

But no. This marriage was the best possible thing for both of them. They would simply have to make it work. _He _would have to make it work. Caroline had a large dowry, had high standing and was generally well respected. There were worse people to be wed to than Caroline Bingley.

He finishes dressing only to hesitantly step over to his sleeping wife. At the sound of his soft steps, her forehead creases in worry and she mumbles something unintelligible. He pauses, not wishing to wake her, yet watches her face return to its once again calm visage before leaving.

_Yes, there were worse people to be wed to indeed._

* * *

"Do you enjoy walks by the ocean, Mrs. Darcy?" He inquires, her hand on the crook of his elbow feeling like it is burning through his clothing.

"When I am in the right attitude." She shrugs quietly. "The sea can do wonders for oneself."

"I don't think I see your meaning."

"The sea has a nice way of washing everything away; smoothing out rough edges." She replies, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. The brisk ocean wind ruffles his hair, making her want to reach up and brush it out of his face. She can feel how tense he is under her hand, and slowly returns it to her side; even the simple formality of walking arm and arm is too much for him.

The honeymoon thus far, in Caroline's opinion, had been an utter disaster. She and Mr. Darcy were hardly the picture of blushing newlyweds. He had barely looked at her since their wedding, and even now, he only relaxed when she was walking eighteen inches away from him.

"Then indeed, perhaps the sea can help us better our relationship." He halts, turning away from the glistening water to face her. She blinks in surprise, before raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Now it is I who does not follow your meaning." She whispers slowly, dress rustling gaily with the tall grass around her feet in the wind.

"While I did acknowledge I had never disliked you, we have never been friends." He starts. "But I will be frank; I have found you to be rude, snobbish, and relatively tactless in the past. I am willing to put these past indiscretions behind, however, for the sake of appearances, especially in front of Georgiana at Pemberley. We need not openly detest each other."

She could feel the heat rising in her face through his whole speech, and by the end she is trembling, both in anger and in pain. Fighting back stubborn tears, something snaps in her - she is finished trying to please Fitzwilliam Darcy.

"Need I remind you, " She says through her teeth, stepping close enough to him to see the greys and blues swirl together in his eyes. "That you are no model husband. You are prideful, uptight, so taciturn and judgmental that no one can break your walls. Well, except Miss Elizabeth, but you ruined any chance you had with her with your awful personality. You begged on your knees for me to marry you, yet you have the _audacity _to point out every fault I've ever committed? And you must know by now that I could never detest you, _Mr. Darcy_."

She spits his name like an epithet, watches concealed rage, shock, and perhaps respect flit over his face.

"Now, are we continuing our walk or not?"

* * *

"I regret my harshness earlier." He fills the empty silence as they ready for bed that night.

"Is that an apology, Mr. Darcy?" She says lightly, and he can hear the smirk in her voice without even looking at her.

"Yes. I have...underestimated your character and overestimated mine." He admits, and he is surprised at her bitter laugh.

"That makes me feel so much better." She moves to get in bed behind him, but he turns and catches her hand, stepping closer to her, voice dropping to a whisper.

"_I'm trying my best here, and if you -"_

_"And you don't think I am?" _ She hisses through her teeth, eyes challenging and demanding, dark with anger.

He pauses, but the only words he can muster are, "You're hands are cold." Her skin is soft, a beautiful cream, but as frigid as mountain snows.

"Stimulating observation, Mr. Darcy." She replies quietly, but with a soft, small smile. He grins back slightly, relaxing, fingers tightening in hers for a moment.

"'Fitzwilliam', please." He amends, and her smile widens just a little.

"_Fitzwilliam_," She says his Christian name experimentally, like a dress she's trying on in a shop. He's rather surprised how pleasant his name sounds curled around her tongue, almost like a song.

As they finish preparing for bed, they are no longer silent; she inquires after the book he's reading, he asks which operas she's seen recently. It's not deep conversation, not meaningful, and it is awkward, but it serves as a temporary cease fire.

It's a step.


	4. chapter three

**To make things clear, I guess - Darcy is attracted to Caroline, but in the way you find a gorgeous person in front of you in line at Starbucks attractive. Darcy ****_loves _****Elizabeth, a deep, unyielding passion, in a way that he doesn't about Caroline.**

* * *

"Is it quite necessary to leave this early in the morning?" Caroline yawns slightly, shivering in the early morning mist.

"Not unless you want to arrive at Pemberley in two months." Fitzwilliam Darcy replies stiffly. Upon noticing his wife shaking in the chill, he steps closer to her, wrapping an arm around and pulling her into his chest. It is not a gesture of affection, but more of necessity; it would not do for his new bride to freeze to death just weeks after their wedding.

When the carriage pulls up to whisk them away, he notices her nose wrinkle in distaste as a servant boy with dirty hands helps her into the carriage after helping a footman with their luggage.

Normally when he was traveling with Caroline, they sat across from each other, as propriety demanded. Now, he hesitantly takes the seat next to her, and the cabin feels thirty times warmer now, with her pressed right against him; this is the closest contact they've ever had.

"Do you have an aversion to servant boys, Mrs. Darcy?" He inquires as the carriage lurches into motion.

"Only to dirt." She huffs under her breath, inspecting herself for any traces of the stuff.

"Well, any dirt is bound to wash away now." He comments, as thunder claps in the distance and a steady sheet of rain begins to fall, greying the world outside.

She makes a small noise of discontent before pulling one of the thick wool blankets over her. "Too early." She repeats with a yawn before closing her eyes quietly.

He had hoped that Caroline would stay awake to provide him with some form of distraction, but obviously that was not the case. The warmth of the cabin, (of _her_), the steady rumble carriage, the sound of the rain, are enough for him to slip into sleep soon, too.

* * *

**When she wakes up, the rain is still pounding away outside, but the clouds seem lighter, the sun fighting to break through. She keeps her eyes closed, snuggling deeper into the blanket. She's almost asleep again, sound fading into nothing, when she takes notice of the smell of the side of the carriage her face is buried against. It smells like old leather, pine; like ancient luxury, but also comfort.**

She smiles lazily at the warm scent, turning closer into it when her eyes flick open in alarm because the cabin has no business smelling like that. She looks up - indeed, not the cabin, but rather Mr. Darcy, who's looking down at her in vague amusement, book in his hand.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Darcy." She sits up straighter, blushing furiously.

"You are tired. I did not want to wake you." He drawls, turning the page of his book. He felt rather exhausted, too; he had indeed slept well next to her, in the cocoon of the carriage, but the thought of that kind of intimacy with Caroline Bingley still worried him, so he busied himself with his book. "It is a long journey, and I would hope you would be most comfortable."

She eyes him carefully, not quite understanding the meaning of his words. In truth, neither does he.

After a long moment, she hesitantly relaxes in her seat, letting herself rest against his shoulder. At first it feels _too _awkward, _too _intimate, but as the minutes tick by it feels more and more comfortable - That tired warmth is threatening to overtake her again, but she can't pathetically fall asleep against him, not again.

"What are you reading, Fitzwilliam?" She whispers, somehow her voice too loud for the cabin.

"_Milton_, by William Blake." He replies, glancing down at her.

"What's it about?" She questions, looking up to meet his surprised eyes.

"The adventures of deceased author John Milton and William Blake himself." He informs her, but finds her studying the page before her. When he goes to turn the page, she makes a small sound of alarm and catches his hand, stopping him.

He nearly laughs at her actions, before carefully putting his arm around her so she can see the book more easily. She nods in approval, letting him turn the page.

It's odd, reading with Caroline, but he does not find it entirely unpleasant. Half of his time is spent discreetly watching her; her brows draw in focus, pulling her lower lip between her teeth when she comes to the more harrowing parts. He finds it fascinating how only during reading does emotion so easily flit across her face.

Eventually, she falls quietly into sleep; reclining into his side, head rested on his chest. When his eyes begin to grow heavy, he finds that his hand seeks out hers unconsciously, fingers linking in hers and solidifying the cozy privacy of the cabin.

* * *

**The consummation does not take place on the journey to Pemberley - though he does notice that she has indeed been generally agreeable, and it is a curious change he rather enjoys. **

They still sleep relatively apart, but at least they face each other; they often fall asleep talking - about acquaintances in London, about Pemberley, about the war with France, even about books.

(She is fall more knowledgeable than he originally perceived, though she does admit most of her reading did come from a desire to once please him).

"I am rather fond of Robert Burns, actually. He has this poem - well, really more of a song - called "A Red, Red, Rose". Have you heard of it?"

He shakes his head, a soft grin playing at his lips. "_Tell me_."

She sings quietly, a wispy, beautiful voice he can't get out of his head. "_My love is like a red, red rose, that's newly sprung in June. Oh my love is like a melody, so sweetly sung in tune..." _

* * *

**"Fitzwilliam..."**

_In his dreams, she always refers to him by his Christian name; never 'Mr. Darcy'. She's laughing in this one; a good natured laugh that reaches her fine eyes. She spins playfully out of his reach, running away from him, hair flying behind her. They're at Pemberley, he realizes; by the lake, the sun rising in the east. _

"Fitzwilliam..."

_There it is again - the voice of an angel. She was disappearing, urging him to follow, but it was all fading to black. He had to follow her, had to call after her -_

"_Elizabeth..."_

There's a soft hand on his shoulder. "Fitzwilliam..."

"_Elizabeth..._" He murmurs again, opening his eyes in confusion.

But no, not Elizabeth Bennet - Caroline, his wife, peering down at him.

"We've arrived at Pemberley." She says icily, hand retreating to her side quickly, and he freezes. _There is no way she could have heard. _But the brief, intense flash of pain in her eyes, then the way her face turns to indifferent, unyielding stone, tells him otherwise.

"Caroline," He begins, but he doesn't quite know what to say.

"Don't." She whispers harshly, turning away from him. "_Please, don't."_

When they greet Georgiana at the entrance to Pemberley, Caroline still embraces her warmly.

"But you do not look well, sister. Are you feeling okay?" Georgiana inquires thoughtfully, taking Caroline's hands in concern.

"It has just been a long journey, darling." Caroline replies distantly, heading inside quietly.

"Caroline, wait -" He follows her anxiously up the stairs.

She shuts the door to their room firmly in his face.


	5. chapter four

"Is there something wrong with you and Mrs. Darcy, Fitzwilliam?"

Darcy looks up from his book to meet his sister's worried gaze. Her eyes are shining with concern, fingers stilled over her embroidery.

"What makes you say so?" He replies calmly, returning his eyes to his book, but not even reading the words.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, my dear brother, but there seems to be a rather chilly air between you and your new wife. Is she not well?"

"Her health is perfectly fine, I can assure you." He lies, for they both know that Caroline has barely eaten since they've arrived.

"Are you arguing, then?" She inquires, and he shuts his book with a loud slam. "If that was impertinent, I apologize. I only wish for you both to be happy." She chews on her bottom lip in worry. "You are both happy, aren't you?"

He nearly laughs at the absurdity of the question, because no doubt he and his wife are the most miserable people the world has ever seen.

"I can't say that we are happy, but we are getting on." He sighs.

"You're lying." Georgiana whispers, staring at him with such a penetrative gaze that he has to look away. "You don't love her."

"No," He admits. "And I'm not sure she quite loves me. She loves the money and the estate certainly, but not..."

"But not you." Georgiana squeezes his hand slightly. "I must say, I was rather surprised to hear of your engagement. I did not think you were...fond of her."

"I'm not." He huffs. "It was really a matter of convenience."

"But so suddenly..." She knits her eyebrows in confusion, before smoothing out in realization. "There is someone else."

"Yes," He closes his eyes, Elizabeth's image coming to mind. "But she rejected me, and now is married to our dear cousin Richard."

"Oh, Fitzwilliam." Georgiana breathes, looking at him with a mix of sympathy and pity. "And Caroline knows this?"

"Naturally." He grits his teeth, headache already brewing at the thought of his current predicament.

"Well, perhaps you will grow closer with time." Georgiana suggests with a small, hopeful smile.

"Perhaps," He replies in exasperation. "But I doubt it."

****

"How was your day?" He asks his wife quietly late that night, finding her sitting by the dim fire in the salon.

"Met with the gardeners." She shrugs boredly after a second, voice hoarse. He can't see her so well in the low light, but she looks exhausted and a tad frail as he sinks into the armchair next to her.

"Oh?"

"I'm thinking about putting in rose bushes." She whispers, not once looking at him, eyes trained on the fire.

"That would be lovely." He quietly agrees, and she merely blinks tiredly. "Caroline, we must talk - I have apologized countless times, and I don't know what more you would like me to do."

"I have never expected love from you, and I no longer expect affection, but friendship and kindness would be nice." Her voice cracks slightly at the end, so soft he can barely hear it. "Do you have any idea what it's like, being second choice to someone?"

"Yes," He snaps more harshly than he intended. "I do." She lowers her gaze, shoulders drooping in exhaustion.

"I know you love her and will always love her, but I do not need it shoved in my face constantly." She says through her teeth, and Darcy's temporary annoyance and anger seeps out of him.

"I know. And I'm sorry." When he looks back at her, he notices that her face is shining with tears. "I have no wish to cause you pain." He continues honestly, and she turns away from him so he can't see her sorrow. "Caroline," He rises to his feet, approaching her worriedly because he doesn't think he's ever seen her in such a display of emotion.

"Please, leave me alone." She murmurs, voice thick with tears. He gently, hesitantly, places a hand on her shoulder, and being so tense, she nearly leaps to her feet in shock. When she turns to face him, her eyes are blazing, but they widen slightly at the closeness of him. "Leave, I beg you."

"I won't." He says honestly, slightly afraid to leave her in such a state, and she shakes her head, angrily wiping at her tears.

"You incorrigible man." She laughs bitterly, and in response, to both his and her surprise, he hugs her - the first real embrace of their relationship. For some reason, the sight of Caroline so upset makes his stomach drop and his heart squeeze in the strangest way.

She's surprisingly warm - he always thought that she would be cold, to match her personality. She's a little taller than Elizabeth was, just coming up to his chin, so he can press his face into her sweet smelling air. It takes half of second for her to wrap her arms around his torso, and she's trembling just barely in his embrace, so he squeezes her tighter.

"You're tired." It's more of a statement than a question, and she nods into his chest. "Let's go to bed, then."

She pulls away slightly, arms still wrapped around him. She's so close to him, the closest she's ever been, so close that her forehead is just barely resting against her. Her eyebrows knit together, as if she's analyzing him, and her hand skirts down the side of his face.

He's half tempted to kiss her, just then.

But she takes a small step away from him, wraps her arms tightly around herself and turns away, and sighs as she responds, "Let's go, then."

****

"It's an F sharp, darling, not an F. See?" 

"Yes, I know. Sorry." Georgiana slumps in defeat, and Darcy leans casually against the doorframe of the parlor, watching as Caroline smiles gently.

"Try again." Caroline encourages her, and Georgiana straightens her back in a new found determination, before taking a deep breath and beginning to play the pianoforte again. He takes a seat on the sofa as she plays, and to his untrained ears, he supposes, he can not hear any flaws in his younger sister's playing.

Georgiana stops suddenly with a huff of frustration. "It's always that one part where I make a mistake!"

"Your hands are too heavy, I think. You mustn't bang away - your fingers need to be light, graceful, dancing on the keys." Caroline counsels, but Georgiana throws her hands up and stands.

"Enough pianoforte lessons for today." Georgiana announces, joining her brother on the couch with a tired smile. Caroline moves towards the chair, but Georgiana raises a hand to stop her. "But of course you must play for us, sister! I have not had the pleasure of hearing you play in so long."

"It has been a long time since I've played the pianoforte." Caroline replies slowly, uneasily.

"Then now is as good a time as ever to pick it back up! Don't you think, Fitzwilliam?"

"Absolutely." He nods in stern agreement, reclining back on the couch, anticipating.

"I could never deny you, Georgiana." Caroline sends his sister a small grin as she steps back towards the pianoforte, but shoots him a glare over her shoulder that nearly makes him laugh.

Now, whenever Georgiana played the pianoforte, she always chose light, soaring pieces, filled with beautiful melodies. Caroline, however, chooses something dark - in minor, full of flats, resounding through the room. There is a delicacy, a grace to Caroline's playing, a hypnotic beauty, that Georgiana's lacks.

Georgiana watches in awe, in worship. Georgiana looks up to Caroline, he realizes. _As long as her influence only extends to the pianoforte, and not societal propriety. _

"Oh, bravo, Caroline!" Georgiana cries when she finishes, jumping to her feet and clapping. "I have forgotten how talented you are! The most talented player in London, I've heard it said."

"You are too kind, Georgiana." Caroline laughs slightly as she rises to her feet.

"Don't malign yourself, sister! Surely you agree, Fitzwilliam?"

"Yes, " He agrees honestly. "Caroline is a wonderful pianist, and it's always a pleasure to hear her play."

To his surprise, Caroline blushes, looking at her feet, and it's odd because usually she _brags _about her accomplishments.

"I am no expert pianist, I can assure you. I merely had good training." Caroline joins them on the couch.

"Oh, look at the weather!" Georgiana exclaims suddenly in surprise, gazing out the window. The sun is shining brightly, and Darcy can hear the vague chirping of birds outside. "This is the best its been in days. Can we go for a ride?"

"This is rather sudden." Darcy blinks. "But I don't see the trouble in it."

"And I have heard Caroline is a master horsewoman as well." Georgiana's eyes are sparkling, and Caroline scoffs.

"Now I _know _you are singing my praises too highly."

"I will meet you both in the stables." Georgiana simply smiles, skipping off and down the hall.

"She's an expert manipulator, I know it." Caroline jokes, and Darcy grins as they both stand.

"You really must play for us more often." Darcy whispers, before turning to leave. At the compliment, she stands frozen in surprise for a long moment, and he almost laughs. "Coming, Caroline?"

"Of course." She replies after a moment, before brusquely brushing by him to change into her riding clothes.

****

"She's trying to do us a favor, you know." He comments as their horses trot along, nodding ahead to the direction where Georgiana cantered off to. "She thinks we're disagreeing, and that we need time alone."

"Aren't we?" Caroline scoffs humorlessly.

"I thought we had perhaps reached a detente." Darcy replies, and she shrugs indifferently as their horses move to a stop to graze at the end of the reflecting pool. Pemberley glistens in the sun, far away, like a castle in the clouds, looking more massive and intimidating and opulent than ever.

He catches her gazing at the house in a way he can't quite describe, can't quite figure out.

"It's your home now." He states, watching her carefully. "You are the mistress of Pemberley."

"It doesn't feel like home." She says softly, words drifting away in the spring wind. "I've never really had one, you see, being shipped off to the seminary so young, so I guess I wouldn't know what one would feel like."

After a long moment, he continues. "I can't give you what you want, I know." She looks away, bites her lip in shame. "But I do want you to be happy here." Blush creeps up her cheeks, and he slides off of his horse. "I know that it will take awhile, but until then, perhaps we can put on a good front for Georgiana." He offers his hand, and she takes it hesitantly, letting him help her down from her horse.

"And _there_ is Georgiana," Caroline comments, nodding towards Georgiana's distant figure. "Now, how do you suggest putting on a good front?"

He takes a soft step closer to her, and she sharply inhales as his hand moves to cup her cheek, before moving down to wind in the hair gathered at the base of her neck. "I do think that is up to you, Mrs. Darcy."

She analyzes him carefully, eyes sparkling as her hand rests gently on his chest. This whole situation has caused her so much pain, but in that moment, it doesn't feel so bad, really. In that moment, despite his ridiculous love for Elizabeth and her high walls, blocking out emotions, she wants to kiss him senseless until she can't breathe anymore.

"Am I interrupting something?" Georgiana indeed interrupts, as if on cue as her horse comes to a stop next to them, eyes shining and a massive grin on her face.

"We will finish this discussion later, Mr. Darcy." She steps away from him with a civil, cool smile, and he nearly smirks back.

"I look forward to it, Mrs. Darcy."


	6. chapter five

"Oh, the Bathursts have invited us to a ball!" Georgiana cries, reading the letter before her ferociously.

Caroline and Mr. Darcy both make the same noise of discontent. "Those people are odious, Georgiana." Caroline rolls her eyes, aggressively returning to her needlepoint.

"But they've just redone their ballroom!" Georgiana whines, taking a seat closer to her brother. "Can we go, Fitzwilliam?"

"It's all the way in London, Georgiana." He sighs, flipping through his book. "And besides, you know how disagreeable the Bathurst's company is."

"It's supposed to be the biggest private ball of the season!" Georgiana tries to persuade them. "And besides, Miss Belcourt will be there."

"Who on earth is Miss Belcourt?" Caroline raises an eyebrow, letting a smile play at her lips.

"Rachel Belcourt, my best friend from the seminary! She lives in Kent, and I hardly _ever_ get to see her." Georgiana begs, taking her brother's hands. "We could open up the house in London early!" She sings. Mr. Darcy meets his wife's eyes over Georgiana's shoulder, and Caroline shrugs nonchalantly.

"Fine!" He acquiesces, letting out a sigh of defeat as Georgiana throws her arms around him, squealing with delight.

"Do not blame us if you find Lord and Lady Bathurst horrid." Caroline laughs, watching the siblings with amusement.

"Oh, there will be so many people that we will not even _see _Lord and Lady Bathurst." Georgiana grins in satisfaction. "I will reply at once."

"Pray tell, when _is _this ball?" Caroline inquires, setting down her needlepoint.

"Ten days from now?" Georgiana admits, blushing. Both Caroline and Fitzwilliam flush with anger.

"And you're only telling us about it now?" Her brother exclaims, and Georgiana winces. "There is no way we can go, not on this short notice."

"I wanted to wait until you agreed to go." Georgiana admits, and Caroline pales.

"You've already told them we were coming, haven't you." Georgiana looks down at her feet. "Haven't you?"

"Well...yes." Georgiana admits, and both Darcy and Caroline groaned. "So you see, we have to go now because it would be impolite to cancel so late."

"How long have you had this invitation?" Darcy inquires sternly, and she shrugs.

"About a month or so?" She estimates, and neither her brother nor sister in law reply. "I'll go tell the staff that we depart tomorrow then." She places a kiss on her brother's cheek before bounding out of the room. "I knew you would see it my way, my dear Fitzwilliam."

Once she leaves, he sinks down further in this seat, obviously exhausted. "That girl is going to be the death of us."

Caroline lets out a sharp laugh. "But perhaps this is a double edged sword - a ball in London is certainly a change of pace."

"You're just tired of the countryside." Mr. Darcy observes, and she throws a pillow at him in annoyance.

"You are absolutely incorrigible." She shakes her head, rising to her feet. "I could never tire of Pemberley, and our merry band of miscreants."

"You're jesting, surely." He responds, raises an eyebrow when she circles behind him and places a hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Darcy, you would be surprised how joking I can be."

"See, I don't see Lord and Lady Bathurst anywhere." Georgiana announces with satisfaction when they arrive, surveying the massive assembly from their vantage point at the top of the stairs.

"You'll hear them before you see them, Georgiana." Darcy replies with a huff. "Surely you don't want to spend your whole evening with us. Go on and find your friend, Miss Belcourt."

"Who?" Georgiana inquires, confusion drawing over her face, but she's already walking away from them, disappearing into a mass of young debutantes.

"I told you that girl was a master manipulator." Caroline laughs dryly, and he takes her arm.

"Now, let us go before the Bathursts find us." He whispers in her ear, and she nods in silent agreement, but it is too late - they indeed hear the shrill, raucous voices of Lord and Lady Bathurst before they see them, emerging from the crowd, looking more ridiculous than ever.

"MR AND MRS DARCY!" Lady Bathurst cries, and Caroline has to restrain herself from wincing. "We are so glad you could make it."

"The pleasure is all ours, Lady Bathurst." Caroline smiles thinly, nails digging into the crook of his elbow.

"I must say, I was quite disappointed to not receive an invitation to your nuptials." Lady Bathurst sniffs, inching her husband and herself closer to them, so close that Darcy can smell the unfortunate scent of sweat, tobacco, and whisky wafting off of Lord Bathurst.

"It was a small affair." He says stiffly. "You've redone your ballroom, I see."

"I'm surprised you've noticed, considering how long it's been since you've been here." Lord Bathurst chuckles darkly, and Darcy and Caroline tense immediately.

"I fear, however, that the French style may soon go out of vogue, with their imminent defeat on the continent." Caroline smirks, and Darcy nearly smiles as he watches the Bathursts' faces fall. "Goodbye, your lordship, your ladyship." She sings lightly, leading him away from the irate and reddening couple.

"How impertinent, Mrs Darcy." He whispers as they move towards a quieter corner.

"I know - isn't it exciting?" Caroline grins, taking a glass of sherry from one of the footmen and leaning against the wall easily.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" He inquires, and she shrugs nonchalantly. "Why not? You usually enjoy balls."

"I've found that the company is not to my liking." She responds.

"Oh, really? Then perhaps I will leave you here in peace." He suggests.

"Now, you fully know that I did not mean you." Caroline raises an eyebrow.

"Meanwhile, I must go check to see if Georgiana is getting into any trouble." He presses a kiss to her hand, turning away from her. "One moment, Mrs Darcy."

He finds Georgiana with a group of other girls and callow boys, dancing with cheeks flushed in pleasure. He smiles, but it also unnerves him, how grown up his sister looks. She'll be swarmed with suitors soon enough.

When he returns to Caroline, she's turned away from him, surrounded by a group of other women that he recognizes from other parties - all sillier and more sophomoric than the last.

"I don't know how you stand it, Caroline!" One shrieks in horror. "We ran into those Bennets at Vauxhall two weeks ago."

"Positively _garish _I can assure you." Another one comments. "You should have seen them drunkenly bumping into each other."

"How in earth do you put up with them? And now that the Colonel is married to that impertinent Elizabeth..."

He freezes, ice running through his veins.

"I know! So improper, that one. You should hear the vile things she says. Honestly, I can't see what Richard likes about her."

He has to restrain himself from going over there; in fact, the only thing stopping him is Caroline and her reaction. She has yet to say anything, and he can't see her face. Honestly, he fully expects her to confirm their rumors and gossip with them. He can already feel the warmth he was feeling for her freeze over.

"I must ask you to stop at once." Caroline says lowly, and her friends lean closer in confusion.

"Excuse me?" One of her friends nearly snarls.

"I _demand _you stop this talk at once." She seethes, shoulders tense. "I cannot tolerate this slander against my family any more."

"They aren't _your _family, Caroline." One titters nervously.

"They are now." She straightens. "My brother loves Jane very much, and a sweeter girl has never lived. I must assure you, they are very happy together, and my brother's happiness is of paramount importance." She leans closer, teeth clenched. "And I can also assure you that Richard Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Bennet are happy together, as well. I cannot think of something so petty, Emma, as trying to usurp the good fortune of a former suitor."

One woman's jaw drops open, eyes blazing.

"Now, I expect you to take your filthy tales elsewhere." Caroline concludes, and all those silly women sniff is awkward embarrassment.

He doesn't know if he loves her, just then, but there's this warmth spreading through his chest, this delightful buzz on his blood, this feeling like nothing else matters except for her in that moment - and he thinks he's pretty damn close.

She's whisked away from him before he can approach her, but his mind lingers on her for the rest of the night - he keeps her smiling, dancing figure in the corner of his eye.

He can't even pay attention to Georgiana's excited jabbering on the carriage ride home. His eyes are trained on his wife - her bright eyes, her relaxed demeanor as she listens to Georgiana patiently.

He's in awe of her, in that moment. In awe of the steps she's taken, how she fits so well into their little family (did she say those things because she somehow knew he was behind her, at a distance? No, there was no way she could've known).

In his dressing room, he barely even registers his valet helping him change for bed. He can hear his heart thundering in his ears as he moves into their bedroom. She's lounging at the vanity, brushing her long, red hair.

_Has she always looked so angelic in white?,_ he wonders. Her snowy night gown is just sheer enough that he can see the curves of her form through it, his eyes following the swell of her hips and her breasts.

"Georgiana had a wonderful time." Caroline comments as he walks in, setting down her brush and rising to her feet, turning to face him. "She hardly noticed the rudeness of the Bathursts. You should have heard some of the thing Lady Bathurst was -"

He can bare it no longer - he kisses her then; crosses the room in two long strides, cups her face in his hands, and presses his lips to hers fervently.

She makes a small sound of surprise, but does not protest. She tastes like fine champagne, lips softer than he could have ever imagined. It's feels very strange, but not unpleasant in the slightest.

His eyes flit close as she kisses him back, hands tentatively resting on his shoulders. She's shy, he realizes. Hesitant and just as blushing as their disastrous wedding night.

But _this _will not be like their wedding night, he knows. No, tonight he wants to consume her body and soul; wants to explore every inch of her and god, never in his life did he think that he would be adamant to sleep with Caroline Bingley.

Their lips barely part as they work furiously, pulling at each other's clothes. He has no idea why they're rushing - they have all the time in the world, as husband and wife, and he's determined to savor this moment.

He grins at the realization into the kiss, and to his surprise, she laughs, lips muffling her giggles. His hands still on her waist as he parts from her, forehead resting against hers and her eyes are shining, pupils blown wide.

"Nervous?" He whispers, gently brushing a lock of hair out of her face. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth slightly as she smiles, and the sight is amazingly endearing.

"Not in the slightest, Mr. Darcy." She responds, drawing him back into another kiss.

He has heard horror tales of shaking newlyweds on their wedding night, but he has never experienced anything so natural in his life. That night, he becomes addicted to the taste of her lips, the sound of her whimpers, the sight of her pale skin flushing with arousal.

He doesn't think of Elizabeth Bennet once.


End file.
